


The soft caress of a female touch

by ClaireRavenwood84



Series: The Cause and Effects of Female Tom Riddle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, F/F, F/M, Female! Harry Potter - Freeform, Female!Tom Riddle, Femslash, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Indian Harry Potter, Minor Bullying, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, POC Harry Potter, Racism, Slytherin!Harry Potter - Freeform, Unhealthy Relationships, baby crushes, tom finds out harry is a horcrux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireRavenwood84/pseuds/ClaireRavenwood84
Summary: Harriet Potter grew up devoid of affection, maybe that's why Tom's words affected her so easy. Or maybe it's because Harry has always been weak for a pretty girl.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Hermione Granger, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle
Series: The Cause and Effects of Female Tom Riddle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741756
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	1. The hands that hold the Diary

**Author's Note:**

> Beta’d by Duplicity ❤️❤️. Thanks for putting up with my late night ramblings on how exactly this timeline should have worked out before I realized it’s a fanfiction and I could do whatever I wanted with the plot 😅.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harriet Evans Potter held in her hands an old diary. So far no one in Slytherin had come to claim it, of course, none of the kids in Slytherin were names Merope Marvolo Riddle. So Harriet does what any child would do, she writes in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an ongoing story that is prone to mini hiatuses whenever I lose track of the story. I do have most of the story planned out, so this story shouldn't be quiet for too long :)

Harriet stares at the Diary in front of her. A part of her was longing to open up the diary and write in it again. The temptation multiplied after writing in it the first time but she could feel in her bones that it was dangerous.

Judging by the way the last person who wrote in the diary threw it away into a toilet. It was obvious that the diary wasn’t all as innocent as it tried to be.

The other Slytherin girls gave her scornful looks anytime they saw her with the diary. They weren’t afraid to hide their hatred for her being in their house or her muggle upbringing. The other girls viewed Harriet as a stain on Slytherin’s rich history of pure-bloods and half-bloods. And even if Harriet was a half-blood, her pure-blood father was a blood traitor who married a muggle-born. Which made Harriet as bad as any muggle-born.

Pansey Parkinson was the worst out of all the Slytherin girls in Harriet's year. She terrorized Harriet at any given opportunity. Whether it was destroying Harriet's school supplies left out in the open or hexing her in the hallways. Parkinson had no limit on her reign of terror. Even willing to go so far to steal the diary right out of Harriet’s hands in their shared room. 

Harriet, of course, stole it right back hours later with major retribution.

But the fact that the diary even was in the hands of another girl lit Harriet a fire with jealousy.

Harriet knew she was being irrational but she was beginning to feel covetous of the girl in the diary’s attention. The idea of other people getting to know Merope Riddle, the girl in the diary was a terrifying thought.

It took Harriet a while, but soon she began to notice the effects the diary was having on her.

It was like there was a tiny voice in the back of her head that was warning her of the diary. 

It was quiet at first, but over the course of the weeks, Harriet had the diary, the louder the screaming in Harriet’s brain got. But while the screaming in Harriet’s brain was getting louder, she was simultaneously becoming more and more drained. 

Which was what lead to Harriet staring at the diary late at night, long after the other Slytherin girls had fallen asleep. 

It was starting to become startling clear why the previous owner of the diary tried to flush it down the toilet.

Throwing the diary away seemed to be not an option. Considering when Harriet even thought of throwing it away, her brain began to scream at her. Her skin felt like it was on fire, blazing like an inferno and spreading everywhere it could in her mind. 

She could attempt to lock it in her trunk again. Make it so even Harriet couldn’t open that section of her trunk again. But even that thought her brain rebelled. 

It seemed that any attempt of leaving Merope Riddle’s diary alone was no longer an option.

“What’s the point, Merope? Why are you doing this to me?” Harriet frustratedly wrote in the diary. Slowly the words faded from the pages like Tom was ruminating on them. 

“Doin-” before Merope could even make up some lie about she wasn’t doing anything to Harriet, Harriet immediately wrote over her. 

“No, stop lying, stop dancing around the subject. I know what you’re doing to me. You’re the one draining me dry of energy and harassing me anytime I consider throwing you away. You’re the one to cause my scar to hurt anytime I consider telling people about you and I’m done with all the dancing around.”

Immediately Harriet’s words faded from the page, never before had Merope responded so quickly before. No longer it seemed was she going to fake not paying attention.

“Your scar has been hurting?” 

That’s what she decided to focus on? 

“Yes, it has. Ever since you decided to start writing back to me weeks ago. But it’s been getting stronger and stronger the more we talk.” 

Merope went silent after that. And not just the finishing of the conversation but the fact that she went silent for weeks.

They had that conversation in December. 

Every once in awhile Harriet would try and start another conversation but Merope wouldn’t respond. The words Harriet wrote down stayed on the pages, unlike before where they melted away once Merope was done reading them.

After a certain point of silence, Harriet started using the diary as an actual diary. She wrote down what was going on in school. How things felt so quiet now that it was only her against the Slytherin girls and not her and Hermione. 

But Merope never responded. She didn’t respond to Harriet’s updates on how the other pureblood girls treated her. Didn’t respond to how the attacks on students stopped. And most certainly didn’t respond when Harriet explain how exactly the Dursley’s treated her growing up.

But Harriet could tell she was listening. Only by the fact that when Harriet described growing up with the Dursley’s the diary grew to be a fierce warmth. Stinging Harriet’s hand that was touching the paper. 

It was January, almost February when Merope finally messaged back to Harriet. 

She asked if Harriet would like to see Merope, see what it looked like inside the diary that Merope was confined to. 

Harriet didn’t even hesitate, immediately saying yes. She missed the best friend Merope had become in the absence of Hermione. 

Once Harriet confirmed that she wanted to see what the inside of the diary looked like, Merope slowly dragged her inside. 

Opening Harriet’s eyes, the world around her was grey and black. No color existed around her, even Harriet’s skin was turned into a dull gray color. 

“Hello Harriet, sorry for the silent treatment but I needed some time to think” 

Harriet whipped around to spot the only other person there. 

She was beautiful. The woman had long dark-haired pulled into a hairdo Harriet had only seen in old photos from World War Two. Fair looking skin (as much as it could be in the diary) that looked gray. The woman matched perfectly with the world around her and it was obvious that the outsider in this situation was not the woman but Harriet herself. Well, the woman was technically a girl, judging by the woman’s age she didn’t look old enough to be considered a woman. 

She was obviously older than Harriet’s age of 12, but not older than anybody that just got out of Hogwarts.

It was just the atmosphere surrounding the girl that made her look beyond her years. 

“Merope?” 


	2. The summer of quiet and violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer between second and third year was dull for the most part, but Harriet was glad Tom was there to spice things up with her.

The summertime in Surrey was an interesting experience for Harriet Potter.

It truly is another breed of weird compared to how she lived during the school year. 

She had no school to stress about and grades to manage. And the Dursleys ignored her for the most part. 

They still harassed Harriet anytime they saw her, but even the frequency of their meetings lessened during the summer.

During the summer, the Dursleys were more prone to go on family trips, leaving Harriet behind at the house. 

While alone, she mostly spent time roaming the house, acting like it was hers, and doing whatever she wanted since no one could stop her. 

She would eat whenever she wanted, right at the dinner table, and Vernon and Petunia Dursley couldn’t stop her. 

She wore whatever kind of clothes she wanted. 

Sometimes she would even put on mini fashion shows for an imaginary audience, all dressed up in clothes Aunt Petunia never wore.

Being alone in the Dursleys’ house was the only time where she truly felt like a “normal kid”. She could pretend she wasn’t a freak, or that her actual parents were still around. But it was still lonely being left behind in the Dursleys’ house, even if she was only free when she was alone. 

But she wasn’t always left alone when they went for their “family” trips. Most of the time they would ask Mrs.Figg (their elderly neighbor) to watch Harriet while they were gone. 

Uncle Vernon always complained about leaving her alone in their house, saying “the little freak might burn the house down the moment we take our eyes off her”.

Harriet never did anything close to arson when she was alone without them. But every time they kept vocally worrying about it in front of her, she couldn’t help but entertain the thought of it. Of course, she never voiced those thoughts, and let the Dursleys continue to assume what she thought about when it came to their “cute little” house. 

Being sent to Mrs. Figg’s home wasn’t as big of a punishment to Harriet as the Dursleys hoped.

Anybody was better than the Dursleys, and old people (Harriet came to realize) were almost a different kind of breed of people. 

They had experienced a long life, and that would always change the way they viewed the world. 

Harriet had met some cool old people that lived in the street. Like Mr. Alan, who lived in #6 on Privet Drive; he had fought in World War Two and he was cool. He would personally give Vernon and Petunia a stink eye if he thought Harriet looked “wrong”. 

But unlike the other cool old people Harriet had met growing up, Mrs. Figg was obviously not one of them.

She was old looking and smelled like all of the cats that she owned. The only dessert she seemed to know how to make was a nasty fruit cake or cat treats. Neither was edible, for Harriet or the cats. 

The only thing that Harriet appreciated about Mrs. Figg was the fact that anytime they hung out, she would feed Harriet, constantly. Mrs. Figg never made Harriet wait till she was done eating and left the table/room so Harriet could eat like the Dursleys did. Instead, Mrs. Figg would let Harriet sit at the dinner table with her, and they would share any meal. 

Mrs.Figg would never make Harriet skip meals, and besides baking absolutely rubbish fruit cakes, her actual meals (like breakfast, lunch, and dinner) were surprisingly good. 

But whenever the Dursleys came back from their vacations, they would set Harriet back to work around their house. 

They would make her clean bedrooms, the bathroom, and the kitchen anytime they so much as spotted a speck of dust. 

One of the other chores was maintaining the garden. But unlike the other chores, which always depended on the Dursleys’ mood that day, the garden chores were constant. 

Everyday Harriet had to go out to the front lawn and keep it pristine to Petunia's standards. 

Pick any weed out of the ground, water plants that need water, sabotage other gardens when the neighbors were not looking. 

Growing up working the garden of number 4 Privet Drive gave her skin a warm brown glow. The tan she gained during the summer would start to fade slowly during the school year, but it would re-emerge strongly once the summer started up again.

The summer between her second and third year of Hogwarts was no different.

Her days were monotonous, a never-changing schedule that Harriet was beginning to hate now that she had that fresh taste of freedom at Hogwarts.

She was given a set list of chores to do in the morning after cooking the Dursleys’ breakfast and set to work immediately after eating the slice of toast they “provided” to her. 

The only leisure time Harriet had was late at night when the Dursleys were asleep, and she was underneath the covers of her second-hand bedsheets in Dudley’s old bedroom. 

That was when she would write to Merope about her day, and Merope would try and convince her of running away from the Dursleys’ again.

It never worked, though. Because Harriet knew to leave the Dursleys’ meant to leave the blood wards that protected her. And despite what Merope said about Dumbledore, Harriet knew that it was better to stay with the Dursleys’ than risk getting killed by one of Voldemort’s fanatics out there.

At night, Harriet didn’t _only_ talk to Merope through the diary, she also did her school-assigned summer work. Which was a major pain to do when all of the classes assumed you had access to what they were referencing in the homework. 

But Merope was a major help most of the time when it came to homework. Apparently the course work hadn’t changed much since the 40s, and Merope was happy to help whenever Harriet asked her. 

And Merope was an outstanding teacher despite the era she had grown up in, and how the content had changed. It almost felt like they were growing together; the more Harriet learned, the more Merope learned too. 

A symbiotic relationship was beginning to form between them, and Harriet held that close to her heart as a form of comfort.

Merope was almost like Hermione in some ways, Harriet came to notice. The fact that both of them craved to learn new things about the Wizarding world and loved to share the knowledge they had learned with other people.

But while Merope was more elegant, collected, and understanding when it came to Harriet misunderstanding the content, Hermione was more frustrated and manic in comparison. 

Hermione was more prone to get frustrated when Harriet misunderstood, and Hermione felt like a drill sergeant almost when trying to inform Harriet on how she was wrong in any kind of essay she wrote. 

Both girls were an instrumental part of Harriet being able to pass the second year due to the chaos going on with students being petrified.

Hermione had helped at the beginning of the year, until she’d gotten petrified, and Merope had started helping right before and continued to do so even into summertime in Surrey.

Sometimes at night, when Harriet wasn’t doing schoolwork or writing in the diary, Merope would invite Harriet into the diary. She would let Harriet see events in her life that had happened before Merope was put into the diary. 

Events like Merope meeting a Malfoy for the first time, or seeing Hogwarts for the first time. 

Merope liked to show Harriet the happy memories she had, but some things, even with her charisma and beautiful wit, Merope refused to talk about. 

Like who exactly Merope‘s parents were, or if Merope was still around now. Or how exactly Merope had gotten into the diary in the first place.

—

While most things in Privet Drive stayed monotonous and “normal”, some things changed during that summer. 

Like for instance, during the summer a mass murder broke out of prison and was said to be on the loose in the area. 

Which put Merope on edge once Harriet mentioned it. But Harriet knew that Merope was fickle on how she viewed the world outside the diary and was bound to change her opinion later when she realized that it wouldn’t affect her (or Harriet). 

Another thing that shook up that status quo in the Dursley household was the fact that Vernon’s sister Marge was coming over to stay for a while.

While “Aunt” Marge had stayed over at the Dursleys’ house before, now would be the first time that Harriet technically had a friend with her. A friend that would defend Harriet if need be.

Merope was beginning to become the closest friend Harriet had ever had. She was so kind, and she always listened to everything Harriet talked about.

While sometimes it felt like Harriet over shared everything that has happened in her life, Merope always shared back in kind. The sharing isn't one-sided, Harriet had to keep reminding herself. But it was starting to become obvious that Merope wasn’t willing to talk about certain things about her life.

This time, with Aunt Marge coming over to stay for a few weeks, she seemed to be out to get Harriet. 

She would set her dog on Harriet sometimes when she thought Harriet was being “lazy” and called Harriet rude racist names when she knew Harriet could hear her.

Aunt Marge had so many backwards outdated ideas on how a lady should act, and Harriet managed to fail single one of them any time she _breathed._

Harriet was either too skinny or too dirty or too mouthy or just too _brown_ for Aunt Marge’s taste.

Aunt Marge had so many horrible opinions on any person of color, and Harriet seemed to be the living target for every racist opinion Aunt Marge had the urge to share.

But Harriet didn’t care about that, or at least she never vocalized her anger and frustration about it to the Dursleys’ faces. 

She kept it all inside her heart, couldn’t help but internalize it every time Marge came over. But it was when Aunt Marge tried to drag Harriet’s parents through the mud when she tried to slander their names, that’s when Harriet had had enough. 

——

They were at the dinner table when it happened. One of the few times Harriet was allowed to sit at the table with the Dursleys, and Aunt Marge seemed to be ranting about her dogs to whoever happened to be listening.

She was drinking too, along with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. But Marge happened to drink more than the two other adults combined.

She kept ranting and raving about her dogs, and her diet and how “no, I’m not an alcoholic, pour me another glass, Harriet.”

_Be a dear and pour me another glass, Harriet._

_Why can’t you be more refined, Harriet?_

_Why did your skin have to be so dark, Harriet?_

_Why can’t you just be a nice pale color like your cousin Dudley?_

_Why are you such a freak, Harriet?_

_“_ You know, most breeds of dogs should only be bred with the same kind. To avoid deformity,” Aunt Marge said with a snooty tone. It was clear who exactly this conversation was going to become about. 

A slight connection started to form in Harriet’s brain. Aunt Marge was starting to sound like Pansy Parkinson. Or maybe Parkinson sounded like Aunt Marge. 

Both obsessed with “pure blood” and viewed the mixing of “breeds” as a crime. 

But at least with Parkinson, she never brought skin color into any given conversation. 

The one thing decent about Parkinson was that she was a different kind of racist. 

**_Huh._** _An almost snake like voice whispered in the back of her head. It sounded so close to her own but the accent was wrong. It almost sounded like how old movies talked. The ones made after World War Two._

She had heard the voice before, all the time growing up Harriet realized. But the voice was never so clear before, never felt so _solid._

“It’s all about preserving the blood you see, Vernon, you have to make sure you don’t breed outside the breeding pools, or else you get freaks of nature.” 

  
Harriet then snapped back into focus, she didn’t have time dwelling on voices. Not while Marge was on the prowl.

But the only person who seemed to be actively listening to the conversation was Uncle Vernon, and even that was minimalistic. 

Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, kept giving Harriet looks the more Marge talked. Not scornful, but something else. A face Harriet had never seen before, an almost remorseful face. 

_How new._ This voice on the other hand sounded like _Harriet_. The only difference was that this one felt more honest. This voice was the _real train of thoughts_ going on in Harriet’s brain. The thoughts she could never voice to anybody but herself.

While Harriet always had an almost blank face on when Aunt Marge went on rants about breeding and blood, Aunt Petunia instead always looked uncomfortable. But it seemed like this was the one moment where Aunt Petunia knew where this was going and wasn’t going to like it at all.

_Oh boy_

**_Yay_ **

“Take Harriet here for example.” _Oh goody, time for some real-world examples now._ “She obviously could have been better if naught for her ugly frame, her poor eyesight, and her _nasty_ skin tone.” 

Marge’s words were starting to slur together, an obvious side effect of how many glasses of wine she had been consuming throughout the meal. 

And speaking of meals. 

Harriet was so close to being finished with her food. All she had to do was leave before things got out of hand. Finish her food, then she could leave this horrible conversation and avoid doing something she’ll _regret_. 

“Of course, that’s not your fault, Petunia, you didn’t know your sister was going to breed with a freak and produce _this.”_

Aunt Petunia looked shocked to be put on the spot, even more uncomfortable now that she’d been dragged into the conversation. 

_Good_

_If Harriet has to suffer this conversation, so should she_.

“What happened again to your sister, Petunia? An accident right? Serves her right for marrying a drunkard.” 

“He wasn’t a drunkard.” Harriet hissed out, no longer able to maintain the fake nonchalance she had about the conversation. 

Marge had no right to talk about her parents, not now and not ever. 

Their reputation did not deserve to be slandered by a racist muggle who didn’t even deserve to know how they died and what for. 

Margaret Dursley was **_not_ ** James and Lily Potter’s friend. 

_And even then, no one drags Harriet’s family through the mud._

“What do you know freak? You should consider yourself lucky Vernon and Petunia took you in when they did! Your father was a drunkard who probably beat his wife, and your mother was the poor girl who married him!” 

It was actually surprising how coherent Marge’s speech was considering how drunk she was. But Harriet couldn’t even ponder the thought of being amused about coherency when it felt like rage was burning through her body. 

Harriet had put up with years of “Aunt” Marge trashing her family and never said anything. But now that Harriet really knew who her parents were, what they had done for her? 

_No one_ was allowed to insult them **_ever_ ** _again._

The glass in Marge’s hands shattered, glass spraying everywhere across the table. 

Marge only laughed and blamed it on her “strong grip” while Harriet could feel the other Dursleys stare at her in horror. 

“Girl, stop it!” Vernon commanded her, but the words sounded like static. In one ear and out the other. 

Harriet was still glaring at Marge in fury. 

It was then, when Marge asked Harriet for another glass. Another _bloody_ glass of _alcohol_ , that’s when Harriet really snapped. 

Marge’s face started to become red and then her hands started to swell.

Then her body started to _swell_ like a hot air balloon. 

And she started to float away, shrieking as much as she could. Out of the dining room, out of the house, and up into the sky. 

As soon as Marge started to swell, Harriet could tell her time was short in the house. And if she wanted to get out _safe,_ she needed to leave _now_. 

Running the fastest she had ever run, Harriet whipped around, away from the dining room. She burst open the cupboard underneath the stairs that held a majority of her school supplies with a surge of magic she had never needed to use before. And then she ran upstairs to grab everything else. Which luckily for her, it wasn’t a lot. 

It was then, when she had all her stuff collected and about to drag them out the door, when Petunia spotted her. 

Harriet froze like a deer in the headlights, this was it. 

She was never gonna make it out of the Dursleys’ home. 

But Aunt Petunia did the one thing Harriet had never expected her to do. She motioned for Harriet to leave. 

Not even hesitating with the permission given to her, Harriet grabbed her things and ran as far as she could from number 4 Privet Drive. 

With the _Wild_ hope that maybe everything would work out all right. 


	3. The foundation of strong friendships and love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione spends time acknowledging the idea of befriending a girl who has completely opposite world views than her and contemplates what she should do to keep her dumbass friend safe from herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed Tom's name since I realized that it wouldn't make sense for a girl born in the 20s to be named Tom. So I changed it to Merope instead. Like how male Tom being named after his father, my Fem!Tom is named after her mother.

Hermione could feel something was off when Harry’s letter didn’t arrive on Friday. While Harry wasn’t one to create her own schedule, she was someone who was willing to follow somebody else’s. And often “somebody else’s schedule” was Hermione’s. 

Hermione’s schedule was rather simple. Every Friday she would send Harry a letter reviewing what she had done that week, and Harry would do the same. Each girl would share something interesting that had happened to her, and then a question they had for the other girl. 

They had hashed out how they would communicate during the summer right before school year finished. 

Hermione had actually wanted to bring Harry back to her house for the summer, but Headmaster Dumbledore said no when he found out. He said something about how she was safer with the Dursleys and going to Hermione’s house would put all of them in danger. 

So instead of having a fun-filled summer together, the girls went their separate ways and communicated through heartfelt letters. 

So when there was complete silence on Harry’s end for two weeks, Hermione was worried sick. 

So many different scenarios ran through Hermione’s head on what could have happened to Harry.  _ Was Harry okay? Did the Dursleys harm Harry? Did Harry get kidnapped by Sirius Black?? _

But before Hermione could properly freak out about Harry’s silence, Harry’s letter arrived. 

Hedwig, Harry’s snow-colored barn owl, had swooped through Hermione’s open window and landed next to her bed. Clutched in Hedwig’s talons was what looked like a letter.

Rushing towards her trunk, Hermione grabbed one of the Owl Treats she had bought at Diagon Alley and offered it to Hedwig. Daintily, Hedwig offered up the leg with the letter, obviously not caring now that she had been given a treat. 

Hermione hesitantly reached out towards the letter and removed it from Hedwig’s claws. 

“Thank you Hedwig. Can you stay a little while longer than usual? Until I finish my letter to Harry?” 

Hedwig gave a little chirp in response. Then she tilted her head to the side and started to scratch her neck with her claws

Hermione sat on her bed next to Hedwig and opened up Harry’s letter. 

~~~

“Oh, Harry, why didn’t you tell me it got this bad?” Hermione complained to herself. 

Glancing at Hedwig, who was still perched on Hermione’s bedside table, Hermione walked to her trunk to grab some parchment paper. 

Once Hermione had gotten all her writing supplies together, she finally started writing her letter back to Harry. While Hermione wasn’t an expert at communicating to other people vocally about her emotions, she was good at doing it through letters. 

Her letter to Harry was probably at least five pages long when she was finished with it. It was filled with words upon words, with all the different ways Hermione could possibly even attempt to voice her frustration with the Dursleys and how they treated Harry. 

It was hard not to let the letter devolve into a simple rant about the Dursleys. Hermione had to fight the urge with every turn. But in the end, the letter was complete, and Hermione could tell that she had gotten her point across. That she wasn’t frustrated with Harry herself but frustrated that the only way Harry felt safe from her family was by running away from them.

It provided Hermione a deep comfort to know that Harry was okay at the Leaky Cauldron, away from her terrible relatives. 

While normally Hermione was all for trusting adults, Harry’s awful family put a seed of doubt in Hermione. If Harry’s family, her aunt, uncle, and cousin, the people who were supposed to take care of you, treated you like trash. Then who else could you also not trust? What kind of adult did you really put your faith in? 

~~

It had taken Hermione almost a week to convince her parents to let her visit Harry at the Leaky Cauldron Inn. And then another week to convince them to let Hermione stay the rest of the summer (“it’s only two weeks left!”) with Harry. 

While her parents were very interested in learning about the Wizarding World and Wizarding culture, they were still reluctant to let their thirteen-year-old daughter in that world.

The only way Hermione had convinced them to say yes to the idea was by reminding them that Harry was all alone. That Harry didn’t have anybody watching over her right now, and who knows what kind of poor health habits she was doing while alone. 

By the end of two weeks of attempted convincing, the idea of Harry having poor dental habits was really the nail in the coffin. 

~~~

Hermione and her parents entered The Leaky Cauldron through the Muggle entrance, simply so her parents wouldn’t freak out. Plus, Hermione hadn’t quite remembered the whole wall password for the wizard entrance. So the only way Hermione could enter Diagon Alley was through the Muggle entrance. 

Hermione spotted Harry across the inn. Harry was drinking a glass of something, and for the first time, Hermione noticed that Harry looked beautiful. 

Spending the summer working her Aunt’s garden had turned Harry’s skin into a dark golden brown color, which was so many shades darker compared to the color she would become during the school year. And now spending time alone at the inn had helped Harry look even healthier than she did during the school year. 

Aside from Harry’s new, healthy appearance, Harry was also wearing clothes that actually fit her body well.

During Second Year, Harry had revealed one afternoon when they were alone together that the Dursleys always had control over what Harry was allowed to wear. Despite the fact they obviously detested her, they weren’t going to let whatever Harry was wearing paint them in a bad light. 

It looked like that now Harry was finally alone, she finally was allowed to buy clothes that fit her personal style. 

Harry was wearing a green long-sleeved sweater with what looked to be high-waisted jeans with a belt holding it in place. Her normally messy hair was pulled back into one long braid that reached down to her waist. 

Snapping out of her weird staring session, Hermione walked over to Harry and introduced her parents. 

The conversation had started awkward, with both parties unsure as to what they should exactly talk about. But after Hermione brought up the question of how Harry was doing hanging out in Diagon Alley, the conversation became less stiff. 

Harry opened up about the freedoms she now had living in The Leaky Cauldron, and Hermione watched how her parents' faces softened when they realized Harry really was a sweet girl. 

Hermione’s parents finally left after thirty minutes of conversation. It was slightly embarrassing for Hermione due to the fact that she had kind of started to cry when she realized she wouldn’t see her parents till Christmas time. 

But now that her parents were gone, Harry and Hermione finally were able to move her stuff to Harry’s room. 

Harry had offered to share the room she was renting with Hermione almost immediately after Hermione revealed her parents were letting her stay at the Leaky Cauldron.  _ Why waste more money renting another room when I can just continue to pay for my room, and you can just stay with me? _ Harry had written back with an excited tone.  _ It’s like a sleepover. An extended one, but a sleepover nevertheless. _

Hermione decided to say yes to the idea, obviously. 

The room was almost the exact size of Hermione’s bedroom at her house, or her dorm in Hogwarts. 

There was a queen-sized bed jutting out from the wall to the left, and a fireplace on the opposite wall. Right in front of the fireplace was a small wooden bench with what looked to be intricate carvings all over it. The room felt almost cold; there wasn’t anything to make the room feel unique. Unlike the Muggle Inns Hermione had visited when she was younger that felt so open and inviting, Harry’s rented room felt scarcely lived in. 

“Where do you want me to put my stuff, Harry?” 

The question seemed to startle Harry, drawing a strange sound out of Harry’s throat. “Uh, next to mine I guess?” 

Together they dragged Hermione’s trunk right to the window sill next to Harry’s trunk. And then they immediately ran over and flopped onto the queen-sized bed. What could they say, the trunk was heavy. 

“Harry, are you sure you’re okay?” Hermione whispered while reaching over and tangling her and Harry’s fingers together. 

Hermione was filled with a deep sense of relief now that she could physically see that Harry was actually okay. Even though they had sent letters back and forth, Hermione still had a deeply-rooted fear Harry was secretly hurt. 

“Yeah ‘Mione, I’m fine. I wouldn’t lie over letters to you. I’m just glad I got out of there when I could.” 

Looking over at Harry, Hermione could see Harry really did look better. There was a relaxed air around her that Hermione had never seen before. 

Together they relaxed on the queen-sized bed. Slowly moving closer and closer together, evolving from the simple hand-holding to being basically on top of each other, trying to be the closest they could without hurting the other. 

“I’m glad you’re okay Harry, truly I am,” Hermione had confessed to Harry later, when they both had gone silent in the comfort of embracing each other. 

Harry simply hummed a response into Hermione’s neck and attempted to shift even closer. 

Hermione could feel minute shivers racking through Harry’s body the longer they cuddled. Harry looked so small compared to Hermione; she was leaning into Hermione’s touch like a plant reaching for the sun.

It was much easier for Harry to accept Hermione’s touch when they were alone, as Hermione had learned after a few months into their friendship. Other people watching Harry accept physical comfort always sent Harry on edge.

No matter where they were at Hogwarts.

Whether it was Hermione attempting to hold Harry’s hand to drag her to their shared classes, or touching Harry’s shoulder to show her something when they were in the library studying. Harry would always flinch away, or pull away in general, from Hermione.

But now that both of them were alone in Harry’s rented room in The Leaky Cauldron, Harry was much more willing to be affectionate. 

Over the course of almost three years of friendship, Hermione had come to understand that Harry had grown up feeling alone. 

Harry grew up being unable to rely on the Dursleys for anything she needed in life, so if Harry wanted something she had to do it herself. 

That mentality had grown from childhood and was dragged along into Hogwarts. 

Like in 1st year, Harry had heard that Hermione was alone in the girls’ bathroom when the Troll was near the dungeon, and Harry had rushed to help her instead of going to a professor. 

While Hermione was eternally grateful, there was still frustration that wormed around in her heart that Harry didn’t trust the professors enough to tell them about Hermione being in danger. 

Plus the professors were not amused to find out that Harry had risked her life to save Hermione without even considering telling a teacher. 

Professor Snape had snidely asked Harry why she hadn’t even tried to use her head and tell a teacher about Hermione. And the thing that made Harry radically different than the way people had told Hermione she would act was that Harry didn’t try and change the story to benefit herself.

Harry didn’t even try and paint herself in a clean light. Didn’t try and glorify herself by telling the story about saving Hermione. 

The only thing Harry did was tell the truth. The truth of finding out Hermione being in the same area of the troll and realizing Hermione obviously didn’t know she was in danger.

Professor Snape had simply raised an eyebrow at both of them and warned Harry that next time she decided to act like a Gryffindor, don’t. He had also deducted 5 points from Slytherin with a subtitle grimace that flashed across his face. 

Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, had told Hermione to come to her if she was having issues with the boys in her year. That it was her job to deal with inner house problems and to let her do her job. 

Headmaster Dumbledore had just winked at both of them and told them to be careful with personal adventures.

But being friends with Harry felt like an adventure in its own right. There wasn’t a day where the world wasn’t boring hanging around Harriet Evans Potter. 

There would always be a Slytherin around with a sly comment on Hermione’s blood status or lack of knowledge on the Wizarding World. Or a Gryffindor complaining about Harry being put into Slytherin “being a real crime”. 

The only person that both of them could rely on was each other. Both being outcasts of their own houses put a major strain on their ability to make any kind of new friends. 

But at least they had each other. 


End file.
